


Fixing Malec

by Ducks



Series: Ducks' Malec Week 2016 Collection [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Malec Week 2016, Malec Week 2016 Day Two: Into the Future Day, Miscommunication, angry!Magnus, depressed!Alec, drunk!Alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ducks/pseuds/Ducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some kind of misunderstanding tears apart the budding relationship between Magnus and Alec. Alec isn't dealing with it very well. Their friends band together to put things back the way they belong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixing Malec

**Author's Note:**

> For Malec Week 2016, Day 2: Into the Future Day - Share a headcanon, draw a piece of art or write a fanfiction about Magnus’ and Alec’s life that takes place in Season two or after the events of Born to Endless Night/Lady Midnight.
> 
> All Spanish is 6000 year old schoolgirl version, back when we used to chisel homework on stones. "Pezado de culo" basically means "piece of ass." I think the others make sense in context, but I really like that one.

Jace Wayland was pretty sure that the High Warlock of Brooklyn was procrastinating.

The Shadowhunter sat in one of Magnus' ridiculous fuzzy chairs, with his boots kicked up on a delicate metal table that didn't look like should be able to carry their weight. If this had been Alec's quarters, Jace would have gotten a smack upside the head and a glare telling him to get them off by now. He liked that Magnus was pretty much more relaxed all around than his parabatai was.

He watched the warlock move what seemed very slowly from one place to another in his lab, sighing dramatically and stirring the glowing green potion manually. He was doing _everything_ by agonizingly slow hand, when usually he would snap his fingers, flash his hands or pinwheel his arms, and their business would be concluded.

Of course, Jace wasn't usually the one sent on errands to ask or buy services from Magnus Bane at all. Usually Alec trampled every Shadowhunter in the Institute like a wannabe bride trying to catch the bouquet at a wedding in order to be the one doing anything Magnus-related.

So to speak. He shuddered. He loved his parabatai, and was happier than he could say that Alec finally came out, but it didn't mean Jace got it. All that glitter alone, tangled in Alec's clothes, in his hair, pouring out of his boots when he took them off. How Alec bore that was beyond him. Not that Jace had never been with a woman that didn't shimmer plenty herself. But Magnus was flashier than any girl Jace had ever met.

He was 100% all for Alec's budding relationship with the warlock. There was no way to miss that Alec had been happier than Jace ever saw him before in his life, and he couldn't fault that. Alec smiled all the time, laughed more easily, and said "no" to things less than half the times he would have said it before.

Until two weeks ago. Alec came home from his third date with Magnus looking like somebody had set his jockey shorts on fire. While he was wearing them. When asked what happened, he had given a distinctly "Old Alec" answer: nothing. How did the date go? Fine. Did something happen? Shut up and leave me alone.

Yes, in other words. Something happened, and not a good third date something. But his brother hadn't said a word about it since. Jace knew it was bad because Alec hadn't said Magnus' name _once_ since that night. Usually, every other word out of his face was "Magnus this," "Magnus said that," "Magnus is sooooo wonderful and splendiferous and awesome..." Well, that last one Jace made up, but it was close.

Now it was "the High Warlock," "him," or "Bane" at the most.

"Magnus, are you almost done?" He needed this charm quickly so they could make K'abit demons solid for more than five seconds at a time so they could actually be killed. He didn't have all day to sit there and listen to a 500 year old warlock huff and puff and moan about his boyfriend problems.

"This is an art form, Wayland, not a sandwich. It will be done when it's done."

"Sandwiches _are_ an art form," he grumbled to himself. "You've been at this for an hour. It's getting ridiculous at this point."

Magnus came--Jace would swear--stomping out of his lab-office, holding a glowing container in a hand covered in a heavy black rubber glove. "Do you know what this will do to non-demon flesh if I don't get every ingredient exactly right? If you have something better to do than wait for _me_ to help _you lot, AGAIN,_ then I suggest you go do it and leave me be!"

And he stomped away again.

Oookay. It had to be really bad, then. Jace heaved a great sigh, got up and followed Magnus into the core of his lair. The room stunk like burned things and other scents he'd rather not identify.

"Look, Magnus, if there's something going on between you and Alec, why don't you just call him? I'm sure you guys can work it out."

The meaning of the saying 'if looks could kill' suddenly became very clear to him. What Alec always described (nauseatingly) as big, sweet brown eyes suddenly glowed a much more intimidating burning yellow-green, like a big, hungry cat that wanted to eat his face.

"There is _nothing_ going on between Alec and I, as you say." Magnus scowled and focused back on his work, carefully dipping a giant, ugly purple pendant into the glowing now-orange goop. "Absolutely nothing at all."

Now that was a loaded statement if Jace ever heard one. "Why? I thought you guys were--"

Magnus spun on him, cat eyes flashing. "What? Falling in love? On our way to a wonderful relationship? Infatuated with one another? Having a fabulous time together? Laughing and kissing and well on the path to other things? Yes! So did I!"

Jace clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't going to push it any further, but apparently, the warlock wasn't done. He dropped the pendant into the goop and flung the protective glove across the room, where it flopped against the wall, making a gruesome painting of demons seducing a bunch of nude people rattle.

"Alexander Lightwood is the most frustrating, infuriating, stubborn, ridiculous man I have ever met in my life! He makes as much sense as wings on a rock!" He began to pace, and Jace deeply regretted ever saying a word. "'Oh, Magnus, I care about you but...' 'Oh, Magnus, I know I dumped my fiancée for you and kissed you in front of the entire New York institute, but...' 'Oh, Magnus, I know I said I'd spend the night, but...' ARGH!"

Jace tensed. "Wait. You're mad because he wouldn't spend the _night_ with you?" Not cool.

Magnus gave him a look like Jace had suggested he eat puppies for dinner. "No! Of course not! Why would you think--oh, never mind. You're going to take his side anyway, no doubt."

The Shadowhunter reached out and stopped Magnus with a hand on his shoulder. "I am on Alec's side. But I know how much he cares about you, so that means I'm on both your sides."

He felt Magnus sag under his touch. "I don't know what happened, to tell you the truth. One moment we were..." his gaze ticked to Jace's, then away again. Jace had never seen him look so young or vulnerable before, and for a moment, he could see part of what drew Alec to the warlock. "Being intimate, and the next...he just ran out the door like I bit his privates or something. Which I didn't, I swear."

"Too much information, Magnus," Jace said, but with some compassion in his voice. "But I don't get it. If you guys were... you know... why would that make Alec run out?"

"I have no idea! I tried to let him cool off for a few hours and then call him, but he hung up on me. Then his voicemail kept picking up, so I left him a thousand messages, but he didn't call me back. Now he's _blocking my calls_. I sent flowers, I sent a metric _ton_ of those disgusting chocolate covered black licorice bites he loves so much, even a new quiver that was spelled so he could tell where each kind of arrow was without even touching them. But nothing! Not a word! I have my pride, you know! So I am _done_ with him. Finis!"

Somehow, Jace doubted that. But why was all this drama necessary? Why not just skip to the best part--making up? That's what he always did: nod, look contrite, apologize, smooch. Easy.

"I am over a thousand years old. I have better things to do with my time than play teen soap opera with a virgin Shadowhunter!" Jace knew, of course, that Magnus wasn't actually that old. Alec told him about Magnus' (adorable *barf*) habit of lying about his age.

Said liar shoved away from Jace and waved his hand, making the glove reappear over it. He reached into the glop and pulled out the pendant, examining it carefully. He waved his free hand around the thing, and it glowed a truly putrid yellow.

"Perfect, of course," Mangus said, but even his usual braggadocio seemed subdued. "There you are, Wayland, one charm to solidify K'abit demons."

Jace accepted the small box the warlock dropped the charm into. "What's the spell again?"

"You people really need to learn Latin. Magick would be a great deal easier for you. It's 'Factum' -- 'Become Hard.'"

Jace couldn't help but smirk.

Magnus, uncharacteristically, didn't share his amusement, but simply whipped his hands in a circle and generated a portal. "Thank you for your patronage. Have a nice day. Don't come back soon."

Jace turned to go, but looked back over his shoulder.

"Magnus, seriously. Call Alec. He's miserable too, and he's a lot harder to get along with when he's miserable."

"Mmph," Magnus grunted, and Jace vanished.

~~~~~~~~~

This was just too much. Alec had been hitting the bag with his staff so hard for so long, the noise was echoing through the entire institute and making Isabelle feel like he was hitting her _head_ with the damned thing.

She stomped from the computer to the training area, pulled off one of her brand new sparkling red Manolos, and chucked it at her brother. It hit him in the shoulder with a thunk, and he spun, slamming her with a look of pure rage.

She was not intimidated. She still had another shoe, and a whole cabinet of weapons besides.

"What the hell is your problem?" Alec barked at her. Barked. Like a dog. Snap, snap, snap.

"YOU! You are my problem, Alexander Gideon Lightwood! Your pouting and your brooding and your bitching, and banging things against other things _all day and all night_. I believe in giving people their space, but you are making me homicidal!" She flashed a hand at him, "I bit off TWO NAILS yesterday! And if you think I don't know about the drinking and sneaking out, you're deluded!"

Isabelle took off the other shoe just so she could walk--and have it ready if she needed it--and ascended the stairs to the training floor. Alec had just reclaimed his staff, but before he could swing it at the poor, defenseless sparring bag again, she grabbed it and yanked it out of his hands.

"Stop this. Right now."

For such a pretty man, her  brother sure could make some ugly faces. "What, training? We're Shadowhunters, Isabelle. That's what we're supposed to do."

Izzy spun the staff around a few times, then planted it on the floor beside her, leaning her weight on it and cocking a hip. "That's not training. That's doing your best to break the bag and get sand all over the floor. Which I know would drive you more insane than you already are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Alec grabbed his towel from the bench and mopped at his face as he took a seat. Izzy sat set the staff back in its place, and sat next to him.

"Big brother, you know how much I love you."

He didn't smile, or seem touched in any way, but she knew he heard her. "Yeah."

"So you know I mean it with the most sisterly intentions when I say 'stop being such a bitch.'"

There was that look again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I don't know what happened on your date with Magnus, but I suggest you stop being all Grumpy Cat on extra-cranky pills and do something about it."

"Izzy, you have no clue. It's not that simple."

"What's not simple? You like Magnus, he has the unbelievable hots for you. Whatever it is, I'm sure you can get over it. You've only been on three dates, what could he possibly have done?"

"He didn't...he's just too much, that's all."

"Too much? Um, Alec, isn't that one of the things you said you liked about him? That he was 'all there and then some'?"

Alec shrugged. God, he looked young when he was depressed. Sometimes she felt like the older sibling when he got like this. Izzy took his hand and squeezed.

"You have feelings for him, Alec. Anybody can see that. The air kicks up 20° every time you're in the room together. You can't miss the look on your face when you see it's him calling you. I've known you all my life, and I've never seen you smile as much as you have for the past couple of months. So I don't understand what could have happened all of a sudden."

"I just don't think it can work out. We're too different."

"What, did you just sit down and make a list of dumb excuses to give to people who ask why you're not together? You put your entire life on the line to come out and be with him. You knew who he was when you did all of that. Why is it a problem now?"

He said nothing, but his jaw bulged as he grit his teeth.

"Nobody wants to see you like this, Alec. It makes me sad, and you now I hate how being sad makes my mouth get all wrinkled."

That got the barest hint of a smile. Izzy put her arm as far around her brother's ginormous shoulders as she could, and hugged him close. He was so tense, she was surprised he didn't just shatter.

"Whatever it is, I bet you and Magnus can talk it out. Or, you know, _not_ talk it out. He's what, five billion years old? I bet there's not a lot he hasn't seen or heard. He'll understand."

"Why do you assume it was me who did something?" he said, his anger gone and leaving his voice weak.

"Um, because you're you, and he's Magnus, and Magnus is the coolest being in this dimension, while you're the biggest dork?"

"Ha ha."

"I'm not kidding."

"Okay," Alec got up, "That's enough for this pep rally. You suck at it, just for the record."

"Please call him." She tried one last time.

Alec pulled on his shirt without responding, and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~

Magnus stared at Raphael as if he'd come bearing a basket of garlic bread for them to share. He certainly wouldn't have been more surprised if the head of the New York Clan had done just that. A cross-covered basket, in fact.

"What's wrong?" he asked the vampire.

Raphael pushed by Magnus without bothering to wait for an invitation, and took a seat in one of Magnus' new club chairs. Magnus harumphed at his old friends' rudeness.

"I'll have an O-Pos, if you've got any."

"Why would I offer you a drink when you barge in here in the middle of the night--"

"Magnus, sólo cállate por un minuto . Por favor."

"I am NOT going to shut up! This is my house, into which I am promptly going to withdraw your invitation the moment I toss you out that window."

Raphael made a tsking noise. "They said you were acting like a child, but I thought: how can a powerful 400 year old warlock act like a child?"

Magnus pouted fiercely.

"Never mind. I didn't want to do this anymore than you want me here, all right? But I owe you, so consider this part of my payback."

Magnus poured himself a double vodka rocks--the lovely Belvedere he received from a client--and tossed that back before immediately making another and sitting down on the couch across from Raphael. He did not get a drink for Raphael.

" _What_ is part of your payback?"

"Call that damn Shadowhunter of yours. The Lightwood kid. Immediately, if not sooner. Or I swear if I see him come moping through my territory in the middle of the night again, I'm going to let somebody eat him. We get enough stupid drunks in that neighborhood without a puto borracho _Shadowhunter_ armed with a compound bow running around. Entendido?"

"He's using a compound bow? That's not like him." Magnus said, worry touching his features.

"That's what you got out of what I said? Not 'oh, no, he's drinking,' or 'oh my god, he's wandering around downworlder-infested alleys in the middle of the night?'"

Magnus shrugged and stared hard into his Vodka. "He's a grown man. Where he goes and what he does is none of my business."

"Oh, por el amor de Dios! Stop being an imbecile, would you? I've known you for many years, Magnus Bane, and in all that time the only person I've seen you care about besides yourself--however foolishly--is Camille. You've been follando su camino a través del planeta for what, 130 years now?"

"139. And I have not been fucking everyone on the planet. Only a select few."

"Right. So then this boy comes along, and you're instantly ga-ga over him, making you easier to get along with than when you were getting laid twice a day for all the century before. Shadowhunters going easier on us too, once that bi--Camille was gone. Now we've got the mortal Nosferatu wandering around looking for downworlders to shoot.  No esta bien, my friend. This state of affairs won't stand. Pretty soon one of his friends is going to come looking for him, and then there's going to be bigger trouble than any of us wants. Just because you're being a perra malcriada, why should the rest of us suffer?"

"I am _not_ a spoiled bitch, Raphael! How dare you! That's it. It's time for you to go." Magnus waved his hands, and the vampire found himself forced to his feet and shuffling toward the loft door.

"Fine, I'll go, but you need to think this through, my friend. Fighting with your amante is one thing... him breaking the Accords because he is pissed at you is something else."

"Goodbye, Raphael!" He shoved the vampire out the door and slammed it behind him. Raphael felt the magick shift that would deny him re-entry.

"Last time I do favors for Shadowhunters or warlocks," he complained, and made his way out to the street. Simon waited with is red-headed friend, leaning against Raphael's Jag. "I just had that detailed, could you move your asses off the paint job?"

Simon stood up and got in Raphael's face, trying to be menacing in that uniquely non-threatening way Simon had. "Did you do it?"

"Do what? He's the High Freaking Warlock of Brooklyn. I told him what his pezado de culo was up to. Nothing else to do."

"That's it?" The whiny red-head, Clancy?, complained. "Did you tell him what Alec is doing at night? What state he's in?"

"Yeah, but he seemed more interested in Lightwood's choice of weapons than his lack of sobriety. Now, I've got things to do before sunrise. You want a ride, Lewis?"

"No, thanks. Clary and I are--"

Raphael got into the car and took off without waiting for the kid to finish. He'd done  his duty for the night.

~~~~~~~~~

Magnus had become very good at playing like he didn't care over the centuries, particularly when he had his feelings hurt. But hearing that Alec had changed his weapon of choice, and was _drinking_ while making some insane nightly pilgrimage for...what, exactly? This pushed him over an emotional edge he was in no way comfortable with.

Of course, Alexander Lightwood wouldn't just get drunk in a bar and bring home some strange go-go boy, or get drunk at home and pass out face down in the toilet like normal people, no. He had to go out hunting with a ridiculous weapon he hardly knew how to use. Did he think he would upset Magnus even further by going out and getting himself killed in the most stupid possible way?

Well, it was working.

Magnus remembered every detail of Raphael's account of Alexander's wanderings, and Magnus spent every moment of his time trying to track him--and hopefully stop him before he went out on his nightly suicide mission. Somehow, Alec was avoiding his attempts, which was terribly annoying and must have cost Alec a great deal of money. Magnus was deeply confused, now. What, exactly, had he done to the Shadowhunter that was so terrible that night that he would rather die than talk about it?

He had gone over it a million times in his mind, and never before had he wished more for an eidetic memory. It all seemed so perfect: a table at Paowalla that Magnus had to call in _many_ favors to make reservations for, a bottle of a delightful Madeira that even gave Magnus a bit of a buzz. A long walk through the art festival going on in SoHo, holding hands and laughing at all the ridiculous mundanes' "hipster" fashion, but impressed by their art. They stopped at The Wine Factory to learn a bit about wine-making, drink too much of the wine they'd made, and listen to an ancient band (at least, to Alexander) called Three Dog Night. Alec was so tipsy, Magnus even got him to dance to "Shambala", a song Magnus had loved in the 1970's.

A quick walk to a quiet area, a tiny bit of portal magick, and voila--they were back in Magnus'  loft. What ensued immediately thereafter was the most pleasant late night ever spent on his mauve, crushed velvet Matelasse Queen Anne sofa. And the rug beneath it.

In fact, they were laughing and sighing, moaning more than a little, some of Magnus' clothes had definitely been absent, and if he were a betting warlock--which he was, but who could he wager with when he was grinding on top of a young Shadowhunter on his sitting room floor?--he would have put every penny he could conjure on their being moments from bringing the circus to the bedroom for the climax--so to speak..

That's where things got fuzzy and confusing. Magnus remembered sighing Alexander's name, and maybe saying something in Italian about how nice the hard body felt in his hands, their heartbeats pounding together, and possibly about things he wanted to put in his mouth. Alec garbled something that Magnus _assumed_ was amorous... but then the young man froze. He shoved Magnus off, started apologizing like the drunken fool he must have been, and ran out.

Not a word since. Now this? What the ever-living hell, as the mundanes would say?

Once he and the others portaled into the latest search grid they'd marked on the map of lower Manhattan, Magnus knew almost instantly they were in the right place. There was that sensation he got, whenever Alec was near. He'd felt it the first time they'd touched, that electric jolt that connected them in that moment, and never fully went away since. Whenever they were less than 20 or 30 yards from one another, Magnus could sense him--almost feel him move, hear his voice, smell his skin. He thought it was his imagination, but then he'd discovered that when all of that struck him, Alec inevitably appeared moments later.

The feelings washed over him right then as they stood in the alley outside a shuttered coat factory, washed along by a tide of mixed concern and relief. The noises from around the corner, in the darker shadows of the alley, made the concern kick up to true fear.

Shouting. Snarling. The thuds of feet and fists meeting flesh. The twang of a bow loosing an arrow. The woosh of demonic magick. A cry that was unmistakably Alec. But whether it was pain or anger, Magnus couldn't tell.

And didn't care. He just ran.

Running was not the warlock's strong suit, and Jace, Isabelle and Clary made it to Alec before he did. He came skidding around the corner, damning his choice of the fabulous blue Berluti Allessandros shoes he wore, and wished he'd at least bought them with rubber soles.

He stopped caring about his outfit at all when he found Alec collapsed on the ground, surrounded by Iblis demons embroiled in battle with the other Shadowhunters. Godsdamned IBLIS DEMONS! Just how many of his friends would they try to eat in his lifetime? They smoked in and out, making it impossible for the the children to do much damage with their weapons, since the demons dissipated before even a seraph blade could get close enough to pierce them.

Luckily, they had the High Warlock of Brooklyn on their side, and he had plenty of experience with the disgusting, rude things.

He snapped blue fire into his hands, and cast two dozen blazing arrows of it at once into the small army in Alec's name. Some of the attackers exploded into showers of colored sparks. Some vanished, probably fleeing to their home. All that mattered was that they were gone.

Magnus dove to his knees beside Alec, uncaring that he tore out the knees of his new slacks, took his love's limp hand in his own, and scanned him quickly for whatever wounds brought his powerful warrior low with the other.

There were none. Alexander was _snoring_ , and stunk quite badly of what might have been moonshine and strawberry daiquiri mix.

"Is he okay?"

Magnus wasn't certain who spoke, he was too busy hauling Alec's limp form into his arms and raining soft kisses onto his face. "Alexander, my love. Wake up."

The Shadowhunter stirred slowly, and in a moment, his eyes blinked open. Magnus had never seen such a stunning blue before in his life. "Mag-Magnus? Sorry. Dint call you."

"We can talk about that later. Right now we have to get you up and back to the Institute before anyone realizes what a drunken, stupid lout you are and has you banished."

"No. No, gotta talk first."

"Talk second. Bed first, my love."

Magnus opened the portal once again behind them, and Jace helped him pull Alec up between them as they stepped into the violet light.

~~~~~~~~~

At first, Alec thought everybody was yelling at him. Or possibly throwing exploding rocks at his head. But when the whining drone sharpened enough in his brain for him to focus, he realized by the pitch that it was just Magnus freaking out.

"How could you be so supremely moronic? Drinking! Stumbling around the most demon-infested parts of the city in the dead of night! Why didn't you just come to me? I would have vaporized you and had it done with once and for all! What were you thinking?"

And on and on and _on_. Alec closed his eyes and wished his head would fall off.

"Please, Magnus, I get it. Stop."

"You get it? You. _GET_. IT?" The warlock screeched, and that pretty much did make Alec's head fall off. "Let us set aside for a moment that you are what amounts to a superhero in this city, and time wasted randomly drunk is dangerous for everyone's safety. Let's forget that you _don't actually drink_ to begin with, and that you are wandering around Lower Manhattan like a mentally challenged tourist with a _death wish_! What about _me_? How am _I_ supposed to go on knowing whatever I did to you got you killed, hm? How, exactly, am _I_ supposed to forgive myself for your grisly death? And a compound bow, Alexander? What possessed you to not only get drunk and take walk in the darkest of dark alleys, but to _take a weapon you've never used before?_ "

As much as Alec usually loved the deep, musical sound of Magnus' voice, he tuned it out on behalf of his sanity. Who knew Magnus could sound so much like Alec's mother? He stuffed his head under a pillow and wondered if he could suffocate himself with it.

What seemed like less than a blink later, his refuge was ripped away, and very angry yellow cat eyes blazed down at him. "You are not allowed just to pass out again, Alexander!"

"Stop lecturing me, okay?  I'm sorry."

Magnus sagged down onto the bed beside him, and seeing his miserable expression, Alec felt even worse in an entirely different way. "I don't understand what I did to make you do this, Alec."

For most people, when someone called them by their full name it meant they were in trouble. But when it came to Magnus, it was the use of Alec's common nickname that sounded so wrong and boded bad things.

He took one of Mangus' be-ringed hands and held it tightly."You didn't do anything."

That seemed to horrify Magnus more than anything. He tried to yank his hand away, but Alec held on. "I don't understand," the warlock cried, and for the first time since Alec saw heartbreak in those eyes when he told Magnus he was marrying Lydia, a shadow dimmed the life and spirit that usually burned there. "That night... we were having such a pleasant time, and then suddenly you were gone. I must have said or done something..."

Alec shook his head. "I just... I was thinking about what Simon told us about third dates. How mundanes usually mark it as when new couples have sex for the first time. Then I started thinking about how my mother refuses to look me in the eye, and how everybody sneers and snickers at me at the Institute. How I'll never be the head there the way I prepared to be my entire life. There we were, about to walk over that last line, and all of a sudden... I was just... terrified."

"Of me?" Magnus said softly, his whisper broken, "Of us?"

"Yes. And no. More about me. I didn't know what I was doing--and there you were, so damn beautiful, with hundreds of years of experience. What if I wasn't any good in bed? What if I couldn't make you happy? What if I lost everything about being a Shadowhunter, and you weren't interested in me anymore? And if we finally slept together, that would be _it_ , I was really gay, and there was no going back. So I panicked, and I ran. And once I ran, I felt so stupid for running that I just couldn't deal with it."

Magnus sighed, caressing the Tracking rune inside Alec's palm, and the Shadowhunter couldn't help the shiver than ran through him.

"My poor love," Mangus said, bending down and brushing a kiss on Alec's forehead. "You should know by now that you never have to be embarrassed about anything with me. Ever. If you weren't ready--or if you are never ready--we could have stopped. You can always share your fears with me, and I will always understand. I promise."

Magnus didn't have to swear on the Angel for Alec to know that he meant it. His chest constricted with all the emotion that hit him looking into that beautiful face, seeing all the unbelievable things in those fantastic eyes, and knowing it was all for him.

"Magnus..."

"Yes, pet?"

"What do you think about a fourth date?"

The smile that bloomed on his boyfriend's face was so bright, it would have made Alec's headache worse if it wasn't so mind-bendingly gorgeous. "I think a fourth date would be wonderful. As long as you promise me one thing."

Alec drew their entangled hands to his lips and slowly kissed each of Mangus' rings. Then his knuckles. "Anything."

"Please go back to the recurve bow. I don't want you to get killed because you're using a stupid weapon you know nothing about."

"Magnus," he chuckled, "You know a compound bow is actually easier to use, right? Which is why I chose it when I knew I'd be drinking."

"That is... fairly convoluted logic, Alexander."

"Yeah, well, welcome to my world."

"Glad to be here, silly nephilim," Magnus said, and kissed him, long and sweet, on the lips. "Also? You are already _really_ gay. Just for the record."

Alec laughed.


End file.
